


What Ho, Muses!

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: Awkwardness, Banter, Canon Related, Character Study, Clothing, Crack, Domestic, Drabbles, Drama, Family, Food, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Sickness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:37:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles, ficlets, and short one-shots taking place in the Jeeves and Wooster fandom. Basically anything that isn't long enough or polished enough to merit being a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cure for the Common Cold

Title: Cure for the Common Cold  
Prompt: Sweet  
Word Count: 336  
Warnings: None

***

It has always been an axiom of mine – if axiom is the word I'm looking for – that when life gives you lemons you should have Jeeves make lemonade.

But what do you bally well do when life gives you oranges instead?

"I say." I-sayed. Or rather, I gave it the good old Eton try. The Wooster nose was quite stuffed at the m. and I'm sorry to say that my normally dulcet tones had been reduced to a low braying, quite reminiscent of Aunt A.'s battle call, in fact.

"I say." I-sayed-brayed again. "Jeeves! Our kitchen has been invaded by the sweet and the fruity!"

"Indeed, sir." I watched as each orange shimmered between his hands and the pitcher, juice accumulating in so many drips and drops. "The nutrients found in the Citrus sinensis have proved beneficial for those suffering from Acute Viral Rhinopharyngitis."

"… The grey matter is feeling a tad lazy today, Jeeves." The final orange was sacrificed and its peel abandoned to a dark death within the kitchen's wastebasket. In my feverous state I feared for a moment that I heard the poor blighter calling out to its comrades. Jeeves, ignoring the fruit's plight, strained the whole mixture and handed me the vibrantly colored product.

"It will help with your cold, sir."

"Ah." I raised the glass to my lips but paused, the gears upstairs starting to turn.

"You know, Jeeves,"

"Undoubtedly, sir."

"It's right silly of me to be indulging in this fine concoction alone. After all, aren't colds all social like? The c-whatsit."

"Contagious, sir?"

"That's the chappie."

"Indeed, sir. It would no doubt be prudent for me to sample the juice as well."

"Too right, my man."

He summoned another glass, in a manner withheld from us mere mortals, and I split the drink between us.

"Over the teeth, and past the gums, look out stomach – here it comes!"

"As you say, sir. To your good health."

We clinked our glasses in a most comradely fashion and drank the sweetness down.


	2. The Wonderful World of Wooster Fashion

Title: The Wonderful World of Wooster Fashion  
Prompt: Shorts  
Warnings: None  
Word Count: 2,178

***

"Let me see if I understand what's cooking in that fish-fed brain of your, Jeeves: you believe that this fine example of the lower limbs' apparel is in fact not suited for the young master's wardrobe?"

Jeeves eyed my green flannel trousers with a rummy expression, as if he feared the innocent things might suddenly leap forth, strangle his employer, and proceed to execute warm and fuzzy world domination.

"Well, sir…"

"Don't you 'well, sir' me, Jeeves! I'll have no more of your – your - … whatever that phrase is! You say one thing and mean another!"

"I believe you are referring to the French figure of speech known as a double entendre, sir."

"Yes. Come now, Jeeves, speak plainly!" In my forcefulness I shook the pants in his general direction and watched, fascinated, as he scampered back. Let it be known that along with understanding that most bewildering stuff about the psychology of the individual and being able to make a smashing omelet, my man is also fleet of foot.

"No, sir." Out of the Terrible Trouser's reach he straightened with great dignity. Feudal spirit poured gamely into the room. "I do not believe those are a fit… garment for a gentleman of your standing."

"Pshaw!"

"Sir?"

"I said 'pshaw!' Jeeves. Now see here, the Woosters of old were known for being great judges of character and the last of their line is no exception. You, Jeeves, are jealous!"

His left eyebrow ticked and I knew I had succeeded in shocking him. Poor man, no doubt having his secret revealed was bally distressing, but it simply had to be done…

"Yes, Jeeves, you are jealous. It is the only explanation. For years you have gazed upon your dashing young master, no doubt taking note of how the finest of England's fashions drape exquisitely across his willowy frame. But you – ah you, Jeeves! –you are forever confined to the blacks and whites of the valet, never able to sample what the world of textiles has to offer. It is a difficult existence, but one for which Bertram Wilberforce Wooster has no little sympathy. Therefore I have k. the grey matter into high g. and have discovered the solution hiding under the bed of obviousness: we shall share, Jeeves!"

I must say that despite my moving speech the Jeevian expression looked less like he'd been pulled from the soup and more like the chef had added salt, pepper, a snip of basil, and concluded his work by cranking up the gas. That is, if the chap had gas and not the lovely little electric thing Jeeves uses.

All of that is to say that my man's face remained rummy. Reader, comrades, ancient blood relations, there is only one thing to be done in such situations.

Forward march!

"I say, Jeeves, it is a most ingenious Wooster plan." I said, marching the before mentioned plan forward. Despite the continuous twitching of the left brow I might add. "Your obvious desire to get cozy with my wardrobe has brought out a destructive streak that simply will not do. Now, I propose that you wear, sample, test, attire, clothe, deck, and decorate to your heart's content, provided it is on your days off and all articles return to our currently Aunt free bachelor pad. That said, with love from my own bosom I present to you my crowning jewel, these."

I attempted to hand him the pants with all the solemn-ness of those Greek fellows giving their Trojan chappies a horse. Or did the Trojans do the gifting? Jeeves would know, but I certainly wasn't asking him about it now.

For a m. he seemed to shrink further away but then the most topping thing happened, suddenly his expression went from positively soupy to all chocolaty with the topping portion being one of those mara-whatsit cherries. It was a glorious sight to behold, as my man suddenly tore the pants from my hands and began folding them in his efficient, crispy fashion.

"As you say, sir. If I may be so bold, I would like to draw your attention to the fact that it is indeed my night off tonight. Might I be permitted to… wear these… ah, unique trousers to the Junior Ganymede Club?"

"Indeed you can, Jeeves! You will be the talk of the town!"

The hands cradling my pants trembled. "I do not doubt it, sir."

Then as quickly as he came Jeeves was shimmering off, ready to make his mark in the World of Wooster Fashion.

***

It was no fun hanging around the old homestead when Jeeves wasn't about so I strolled off to the club for a bit of bread tossing and a spot of b. and s. It was quite late when I bid my fellow Drones farewell so I wasn't entirely surprised to find my man back and standing just inside the door, ready to expertly swipe the hat off the noggin.

"Good evening, sir. I trust your outing was satisfactory?"

"Oh quite, Jeeves, quite. Did you know, Gussie was telling the most entertaining tale about a bicycle and three large yams …" I admit that my own thrilling narrative ceased as my eyes caught sight of what was behind Jeeves. Draped across the armchair were my formerly spiffy trousers, now looking as if some ghoulish fined had come along and drained every last drop of spiff. The bottoms were in complete tatters, everything below the knees dangling like Anatole's famed noodles after they'd been properly boiled and pulled from the pot.

"I say, Jeeves. I say." Feeling a tad woozy I sat myself down in the mentioned chair and lightly touched the strands. "What happened?"

He coughed and I turned to find his stuffed frog expression settling in place. "I'm afraid, sir, that there was an incident involving several barbarous felines. They were quite violent and, as you can see, did no little damage to your trousers."

"My word, you were attacked by cats?"

"Yes, sir, a most traumatizing experience. However I assure you, if I am not yet better I shall be so directly."

"They just… attacked you? All willy nilly like?"

"Indeed, sir."

"But… but… what about your legs, Jeeves?" I suddenly bent at the waist and tried to get a look at the potentially mangled limbs. The grey matter was summoning terrible images involving long gashes and mini vampire bites. However, I had not yet touched the fabric before Jeeves pulled away.

"I assure you, sir, I am unharmed. The cats did no damage to me. Flannel, it seems, provides adequate padding when necessary."

I stared at the fabric, trying to picture it protecting Jeeves against the ferocious attack of a clowder. Now, I may not dine on the fruits of the sea as Jeeves does, but you'd still be hard pressed to get one past Bertie Wooster and I would swear on Aunt A's waiting grave that something just didn't add up. And yet, I knew this wasn't the time to draw attention to my Holmesian deductions.

"I see, Jeeves. Well, it's a good thing you're okay."

"It's kind of you to say so, sir."

"After all, they must have been beasts to do such damage. Why, it almost looks as if a pair of scissors was taken to them!"

"Do you think so, sir?"

"Yes, yes. And attacking you clear out of the blue, on the one night you were wearing my pants no less! Dashed shame."

"Indeed, sir. Most unfortunate."

"You must be so upset that your journey into the stylish world of fashion ended so abruptly."

"Devastated, sir."

I tried to stare Jeeves down but he was having none of it. That frogy expression was fixed and firm. After a stretch of the most uncomfortable silence he coughed and held out a hand. "Shall I dispose of them for you, sir?"

"Oh no Jeeves." I waved him away, gathering the remains in my arms. "After all, this was a singular purchase. No more of these around I'm afraid. I think I'll just keep them as a thingamajig. A remembrance what."

"As you say, sir." That rummy expression had oozed back into his face but nevertheless he let me take them. "Will you be requiring anything else?"

"No, no, Jeeves but… well, you bally well didn't like them much did you?"

He hesitated just a moment and then nodded forcefully. "No, sir, I did not. They are a most unsuitable pair of pants for a man of your character."

"Ah. Well perhaps you're right, Jeeves. After all, you have yet to lead the young master astray!"

"It's kind of you to say so, sir."

"A most rummy set of pants."

"Indeed, sir."

"Yes. Yes, well… yes. Dismissed, Jeeves."

"Very good, sir."

Life proceeded in much its normal manner after that. I tucked my poor trousers into the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and Jeeves tucked me into bed. Now dear reader, you may be thinking that that is that is that! "But, Bertie" you say, "Jeeves has won! He was never jealous of your dapper fashion sense and instead of bowing to your wisdom he succeeded in destroying another wearable work of art! What more is there to tell?" Well, I say to you that this young master is not to be trifled with! Two nights later, while Jeeves was buying this and that at the market, I snuck sneakily into the kitchen. Feeling like one of those dashing young heroes from my novels I found the scissors in the left hand drawer – no doubt the same beastie used to destroy my trousers. But Bertram Wooster is not a man to admit defeat. As Jeeves shopped for all the fish his brain could want I tiptoed back to my room to make better use of those scissors.

***

A week later I hauled the Wooster corpus out of bed, gave Ducky a detailed telling of my dreams, and then deliberately threw aside the suit Jeeves had laid out for me. Well, I didn't actually throw the thing. Jeeves would have been as cross as that Jesus fellow's accessory if I had. But I did place them all gentle like over the chair and instead pulled out my re-spiffified legwear.

Gathering courage from the ancestors of old, I stepped out into the parlor.

"What ho, what ho, what ho, Jeeves!"

He was dusting those wavy drapes and as he turned – no doubt to answer my most high-spirited greeting – Jeeves for the first and only time committed That Thing Which Valets Must Not Do.

He dropped something.

We both watched as the feather dusted floated evilly to the floor.

"Well… jolly good it wasn't a tea cup, what!"

"Sir…" The Jeevesian eyes were very, very round. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh this?" I turned a bit as I'd seen females do when they'd bought new dresses or coats or shoes or… whatever else it is that females buy. "Why, it's just a little thingymajob I threw together, having rescued my trousers like the knights of old. Well, not so much trousers now are they?"

I turned a bit more to show off my shorts, cut from the pants Jeeves had barbarically mutilated.

"I realize it's not really the thing over here but Bingo says they're popular in the U. S. of A. Take note, Jeeves! Shorts are no longer just for the lads, us gentlemen can pull them off with all the swag and style they deserve. Now, it's a chipper day, what. The sun is doing sunny things, the birds are doing birdy things, and Bertie will be doing Bertie things – one of which is showing off his new shorts to the whole of the Drones club!"

I made towards the door but Jeeves called out at the last m.

"Sir! Sir… you can't… you just can't…" My dear reader, it would be blasted difficult to say which Jeeves was eyeing with more horror: the shorts themselves or the legs they were failing to cover.

"Ah Jeeves Jeeves Jeeves. Have we forgotten who's the master here? Of course I can! Besides, you already agreed to these!"

"Si,r I never –"

"I do believe, Jeeves old fellow, that your exact words were: 'they are a most unsuitable pair of pants.' So I turned them into shorts!"

"Sir-"

"And what was it that writer said? The be or not be or maybe be chap. Ah! I recall: 'all is fair in love and war,' right, Jeeves?"

"It was actually Smedley, sir…"

"But he was right wasn't he? Be truthful now, Jeeves."

My man looked like the stuffed frog had jumped from his face and hip-hopped down his throat. But he eventually straightened the spine, bared the teeth and said with as much feudal spirit as I have ever seen: "Indeed, sir."

"Well that settles it. Pip pip!"

Thus I strolled out, my head held high and cheeks aglow with the knowledge that Bertie Wooster had not one, not two, but three upped his man and the reward was the real bee's knees.


End file.
